Feeling Broken

-Precious Milk-

The first week home was tough. Incredibly tough. I’d had the cradle ready and waiting in our bedroom since I was five month’s along and we hadn’t moved it, so it stared at me every day, empty, as a reminder of what was missing. I was ready for my daughter to be in that cradle crying, sleeping and cooing. Instead I sat in bed surrounded by pillows with my top pulled up to my collar bone pumping. It is 3am and I’m crying. The only light in the room comes from my iPhone that I’m trying to read to take my mind off the fact that once again I’m pumping instead of breastfeeding Lydia. The cradle is there to my left mocking me and Jordan is to my right sleeping. 

My back aches from the epidurals and spinal block, the ibuprofen doesn’t touch that at all. I’m also experiencing back pain from some nerve damage which must have been caused by the awkward position I was in after the c-section. My tail bone is killing me from all the pressure Lydia put on it during labor. My ibuprofen must be wearing off. Did I mention I was allergic to narcotics, so the only thing I’d been taking was over the counter ibuprofen. 

So I’m sore. I’m pumping. And I’m crying. I’m heartbroken. The idea that I should have my daughter here with me is overwhelming, crippling even at this point. I have yet to cry throughout this entire week. Tonight, is the night that I finally cry. 

I finish pumping and wake Jordan so he can package up the milk and clean my flanges. He comes back upstairs where I resume crying while snuggled into him. I’m miserable, I just want her home. He comforts me and reassures me that everything will be okay and that she will be home soon. It just isn’t enough for me. I need her home, now. When trying to explain this feeling it can best be described as feeling broken. I’m a swollen breasted, sniffling, unfinished puzzle. 

-Lydia after being taken off the Ventilator- 

I’d love to tell you that it got easier, because in general things get easier with time, but this did not become more manageable as the days went by. Each day was met with a new tearful moment, being seen in public by people who are surprised to see I’m no longer pregnant and then immediately want to see the baby; explaining to the checkout lady that you are not pregnant and that your baby is in the NICU; going to your OB office for check up’s. Leaving the hospital at night is agonizing. I cry the entire walk back to the car and home most nights. Christmas music plays in the car as we make our trek home. Now eight month’s later I still tear up if I hear certain songs. 

I don't know it yet, but it will be another two weeks before we bring her home.

The Root of the Problem... my first UTI

At this point in my life I'd never had a UTI, or at least not known of it. After Lydia was born my catheter was kept in until after my transfer, so somewhere around 18 hours. I didn't have a bit of pain, just the lovely puking my guts up part. We got to the Emergency Room around 6:30am on November 23rd and we were there until around noon that day. I had to have a chest x-ray and oodles of blood work, fluids, and anti nausea meds.

We were exhausted

My Bell's Palsy was at it's height 

Our BabyCake

Lydia was up on the fourth floor, but the Emergency Room was so disgusting that we just didn't want to risk transferring any germs to her. So we left the hospital, without seeing her, and went home. We showered, slept for forty-five minutes and then were back on the road to my ob/gyn office so that I could get my staples removed.

After the ob/gyn appointment we drove over to the hospital where Lydia was to visit. We were absolutely exhausted. Neither of us had ever felt so much like collapsing as we did that evening. We ate dinner, I pumped, and we went to bed.

That night was rough, I slept through several pumping sessions and was very engorged the next morning.

Lydia was now five days old.
We hadn't held her.
 I hadn't breastfed her.
We hadn't heard her cry yet.

Being discharged, without your baby.

Day Three in the NICU

Leaving the hospital without a baby is sad and everything about it just feels wrong. The maternal instinct does not tell your body and mind that this is how things are supposed to be, and even if you know it's for the best your body and mind reject it at every turn possible.  I left the hospital on November 21st minus my daughter. This was not how I had imagined coming home from the hospital to be in the least. Instead of leaving with our new baby we got to leave the hospital with a hospital grade breast pump. We had yet to hold her, or hear her tiny baby voice cry out for food and comfort. This wasn't the typical experience that new parents have.

 I handled saying good-bye to her that afternoon in the NICU rather well, no tears or distraught feelings at the moment; I had no idea what exactly lay ahead of me. I knew she needed to be there, she needed the doctors, NP's, nurses and medical devices. She needed to get well so she could come home and receive all the love and cuddles that we were so ready to give her. At the time her estimated stay was still only a week to ten days, this seemed doable to me in those first few days. So I recited this and took note that we had already been there for three days, we could handle one more week I kept telling myself.  I'd have her home right after Thanksgiving and everything would be wonderful then. For now she had to recover and so did I. So I focused on pumping and healing with the knowing that tomorrow I'd be back at the hospital to see her and hear how her blood oxygen levels were and what level of medicines she was at.

 So we went home. Alone.

The morning of my discharge;
seeing her eyes for the very first time

My first pumped milk. I was quite proud.

Throughout the entire hospital experience Jordan had stayed by my side. Thankfully, our Mom's were able to hold down our fort, care for our pets and make us food for when we came home. My Mother in law even went out and got me granny panties to wear while my c-section healed. When we came home we had a fridge full of food to eat, and so we ate. We ate ham, macaroni and cheese and sweet potato casserole and finished it off with pumpkin pie while we watched a comedy special (Donald Glover) and we laughed. We tried to put it out of our minds exactly what was happening. This was our life for now and we just had to roll with it. It felt really good to laugh after so much trauma over the past several days. I pumped and smiled as I saw my first bit of milk had come in. I remember holding that first bottle of glorious gold milk out and being mystified that my body had produced this to nourish our baby. Something was going as planned, well sort of. 

Coming home without your baby you are met with the responsibility of pumping around the clock, just as you would feed a newborn baby. This was time consuming and exhausting and much more difficult than dealing with an actual newborn. Sometimes I missed a pumping which caused me to leak like a faucet non stop, oh the leaking! Nobody tells you just how much fluid is going to drain from your breasts as they figure out their new job, but let's just say they like to pretend that they are glorious, Italian water fountains running non stop. So you pump and the more you pump the more your body produces and pretty soon you wake up with cantaloupe sized breasts and a soaking wet bra, shirt and mattress. 

So we are home now attempting to figure out our new routine. I pump and drink water while Jordan eats. After he eats he washes out the parts of the pump so that I can eat. We are only home for a few hours when I start to feel ill. Before long I'm throwing up and just not feeling well, so we go to bed. A few hours go by and I wake up feverish and throwing up. I'm only a few days out from my c-section and this is the second time I have found myself throwing up in the middle of the night. I feel awful and immediately my mind starts to think of all the awful possibilities for why I am throwing up. Blood poisoning is the first thing that comes to mind that night. Jordan got a trash can and helped me while I threw up all the delicious food I had eaten earlier in the night. 

At 2 o'clock in the morning we call my ob office to get their opinion on what I need to do and they recommend that I go back to the hospital where our daughter is in the NICU. We are far beyond exhausted at this point in the night and one of the worst thunderstorms of the year is happening outside. I decide to go back to bed until the storm passes and we have gotten some sleep so we can safely make it back to the hospital. 

Before long the sky is beginning to lighten outside,  I crawl out of bed and into the shower. I still feel awful but no longer throwing up. I'd also missed a few pumping sessions because of being sick so my breasts were gigantic. It was not a great first night home from the hospital, definitely not what I had pictured just days before. I shower and wake up Jordan so he can take me to the Emergency Room. We both feel and look like death warmed over. 

I've been home a total of 18 hours and we are on our way back to the hospital we just left.